The Fall
by fmoura98
Summary: Short fic with little dialogue. What would happen if the horcrux in Harry's forehead starting merging with Harry's soul, slowly seeping darkness into his mind. "In essence divided" no longer. Rated T for minor references to violence. Complete!
1. First Year

_This is a short dark story. I've sometimes wondered how a boy who was mistreated and misunderstood for most of his life developed the level of Harry's empathy. I feel that there was so much going against him that he could've easily and understandably turned dark at some point - like a darker version of HBP-Harry. Having the horcrux leaking is sort of an excuse for that path being taken. This fic had a bajillion names while I was writing it but I finally settled on something simple that matches the rest of my half-finished stuff. _

_SPOILER: Kind of good ending for the WIzarding World, not so much for Harry and friends. If you don't like bad endings, I advise you not to read it._

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Harry disliked the blond boy. He was rude, pushy and kept saying things that grated on Harry's nerves. Even though part of him felt that being close to Draco would give him some amount of protection from bullies – and Harry had enough of being a target – the green-eyed boy couldn't stand being close to the pompous fool who reminded him so much of a starved version of Dudley. So he stuck close to Ronald Weasley even though the ginger boy had a bad habit of staring at his scar, Harry refused Draco's hand and faced the stares when he entered the Great Hall for the first time. He became a Gryffindor and suddenly he had friends. The kind of warmth that filled him was difficult to explain to someone who had grown up with friends, siblings and parents.

Professor Snape didn't like him but that was okay even if unfair. Harry was used to Unfairness, it was the staring and awe he had trouble with. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hated him but they had fed and clothed him for years even though they obviously never wanted him in their house. Harry never felt like he deserved more and had long since learned not to expect things to change. Dudley was pretty bad but usually Harry could stay out of his way and under Petunia's nose his cousin wasn't that horrible. He was safe as long as he stayed away from Dudley when outside the house. Unwanted but safe.

And Professor Snape, who quickly became his newest source of grief, clearly hated him and the way the world saw the Boy-Who-Lived but still taught him. Harry agreed that it was pretty stupid to be admired for something he couldn't even remember so he didn't take it too personally – Hagrid had told him that there was no other reason for Snape to hate him and Harry had believed him. Ron seemed to feel worse about it even though he wasn't the biggest target of the Professor's scorn but to Harry this was familiar ground. He was being given knowledge by someone who obviously knew his craft. He didn't need anything else and if the Professor wasn't so awful to Longbottom, Harry could honestly say he didn't mind his Professor's attitude. It was, after all, something he was oddly comfortable with. Unwanted but safe.

So the Dursley family and Professor Snape. These were his Foes, the living ones, and Harry knew what to expect from them. But when Ron and Harry were caught out of bed and lost Gryffindor a good amount of points, the following events left Harry feeling terrible and surprisingly… _angry_.

He didn't know why he was angry, he just felt his chest tighten and a frown creasing his forehead at odd times. It was the first time in his life that he was experiencing a new feeling. It was Betrayal. And it hurt more than anything he'd ever felt before. Hagrid had been kind to him but he'd gotten them in trouble. Professor McGonagall, who was supposed to be his most important caretaker in school, didn't even care why they were out of bed, she'd just assumed they were trying to prank Draco and had then taken a ridiculous amount of points for breaking curfew. They were adults that Harry was beginning to trust and they failed him in the worst possible way when he was trying to do a good deed, to help Hagrid. And his big "friend" didn't even come forward, didn't explain the situation to the Headmaster who he obviously had a good relationship with. Hagrid betrayed him. McGonagall betrayed him.

And his housemates? The ones who should've been like brothers and sisters to him? The house of the brave who at the very least should've supported the new Gryffindors in what they could assume were silly endeavors quickly turned on him and his friends. Their kindness was obviously conditional and they took the warmth away when they felt he no longer deserved it. Just be a good little Seeker, Harry, and everyone will love you, do no more and don't let us down, this new world seemed to tell him. If it had been just him, the unfair betrayal might not have stung so hard but Harry was fiercely protective. Seeing Ron – and Hermione, by association - so cowed angered him deeply. Even people from different houses, annoyed by the prospect of having Slytherin with better chances at the House Cup, felt entitled to tell him how much he'd screwed up. As if he owed them something. As if he owed any of them.

Harry was new to Trust and Betrayal. But he would unfortunately come to know them fairly well.

Hagrid and McGonagall soon disappointed him again. Hagrid almost let him get killed in the Forbidden Forest. McGonagall didn't believe them when they told her someone was going to steal the Stone. So they failed him for the last time because Harry would never again expect anything from those two.

Dumbledore was a strange character that spoke kindly but was rarely around so Harry's expectations of him concerned his position and fame mostly. Harry understood being Headmaster probably required most of his time but that simply meant he couldn't feel much of a connection towards the elderly wizard.

In the end, Snape proved to be just like the Dursleys. He obviously hated Harry but he would teach and protect him. He was the only one who was honest. Harry should've known from the start that the Professor wasn't the one trying to kill him and steal the Stone. Harry didn't like to imagine what would've happened if he'd fallen from his broom during that match.

The day he met Voldemort - the first day Harry remembered anyway - changed something in him.

It was the day Harry had a glimpse of Pity. He'd seen it in people's eyes before but he felt it for the first time when he looked at one of his dorm mates. Harry decided he liked Neville. He was shy but tried to do the right thing and he hadn't given him such a hard time when everyone else had. He was abused by Snape, had been allowed to get hurt during several classes and apparently lived with someone scary at home. Harry could definitely relate to the boy and was truly sorry Hermione had to petrify him before he went to meet the First Foe.

Waking up in the school infirmary for the first time at the age of eleven, should've been a clue that this new world Harry was embracing was trying to kill him.

Few revelations surprised him. Dumbledore's attention was nice at first and Harry looked to the adult and hoped he would never let the old wizard down. he found out Hagrid had lied about Snape's reason for singling Harry out. Strike three, Hagrid was out and close to being on the Foe list.

"Can I see it again? The mirror?" Harry asked in a tiny voice, meeting the blue eyes of the Headmaster. He wanted to try and talk to his father, see the love in his mother's eyes again. Those who would forever love him, never disappoint him. Because there was no way they possibly could.

"I fear that would be unwise, Harry."

"One last time?"

"No, Harry." A voice so gentle and eyes so kind as he firmly crushed his hopes with two simple words. Harry didn't insist even though it hurt him more than he'd ever admit. Adults always seemed to think they knew better even though he felt betrayed by most of the ones that surrounded him. He was lucky to be alive at the end of the year and it seemed he owed many people for that. A centaur had saved him even though they'd never met before, Professor Snape had saved his life even though he obviously disliked him and the Headmaster had saved him as well - though hiring Voldemort and allowing him to teach for a full year somewhat negated this feat, some might argue.

Harry learned his lesson. This was how the world worked. He was a child. He had to grow up before anyone actually listened to his opinion. Fine. Nothing had changed, really, things were just like at home but wrapped in a prettier package. At the Feast, everyone not wearing green and silver now seemed to love him again. Harry knew better.

And as he lay down in bed at Privet Drive, away from the fickle warmth and the comforting presence of his two great friends, Harry finally realized something. He had killed a man.

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**All my line breaks have disappeared and I've grown tired of trying to fix it. Sorry, but I'm giving up on them. GG.**

**F. **


	2. Second Year

Ah, his second year. The year the entire school turned on him as a whole… for the first time, anyway. He supposed he'd felt something similar before but that didn't mean that it hurt any less the second time around especially when the stares he received were now loaded with hate and fear. Fear!

Few remained loyal to him but some of the Gryffindors slowly earned his trust. Ron's brothers, Merlin, how he loved them. They embarrassed him to no end and their antics constantly drew attention to him. Still, Harry wouldn't hold a grudge against them. They'd saved him from a whole summer with the Dursleys, after all, and introduced him to the first woman who had embraced him since his mother died. The twins had their way of showing they weren't impressed by the rumors surrounding Harry so he was fine with whatever they did.

Professor Snape was still the same but Harry couldn't forget the hesitant way he'd regarded him when Harry spoke Parseltongue during the duel. That measured, evaluating look. It showed no fear but something else that Harry desperately wanted to decipher. He'd saved him once when Harry suspected the worse of him. This time, Harry wouldn't make that same mistake again. No assumptions.

His Defense teacher turned out to be just as dangerous as he was incompetent. Harry no longer had any expectations regarding the adults around him and wasn't that surprised though the Headmaster – who'd hired said teacher - did drop in his consideration. Despite the small disappointment in one that looked infallible, Harry still expected the Headmaster of a school full of young children to do his job properly and to come to him in a time of need and rescue him like he had done during his first year – preferable before Harry was wounded again. He needed to feel like he was safe at school. At this point in his short life, Harry still had hope, he still believed.

Hagrid's vacation to Azkaban bothered Harry more than he thought it should considering how he felt about the man now. But the simple fool was most likely innocent and Harry didn't believe the black diary enough to consider him capable of writing that horrible message on the wall. And he had given him his first birthday cake and the album with photos of his parents. Perhaps it was meeting the Minister and finding that one of the most powerful figures of his new world was utterly and helplessly useless, passing along unfair judgment to please the people who filled his pockets. Just one more disappointing adult. On that same note, Hagrid was as good as dead to him. Follow the spiders? Really? How detached from reality did you have to be in order to send two kids in search of a family of giant carnivorous spiders in the same forest where one of them had almost died once before?

Meeting Voldemort for the fourth time was just as pleasant as the first three. That Harry had once again almost died at school was bad enough. That he had to save a little girl from being possessed while fighting a giant snake seriously ended any thoughts of safety he might've had towards Hogwarts. True, Harry had been the one to place himself in such a dangerous position but would it too much to ask that he receive something more than a sword to fight a giant snake? How about an army? How about one good man? If Fawkes hadn't decided to help and save a poisoned boy out of his own accord, Harry would've died. His third encounter with one of the many forms of Lord Voldemort almost became his last.

It was nothing if not weird. Harry now owed his life to a bird, a hat, a teacher who apparently hated him and a car. He supposed the Headmaster was on that list somewhere but only just barely. The Headmaster had left him with the Dursleys. He had hidden an object Voldemort wanted right under the beds of children. He seemed to have no control over what happened in the Forbidden Forest, and Professor Snape's behavior towards his students. He had barely managed to save him during his first year at Hogwarts, had abandoned him during his second, leaving him at the mercy of a freakish young Lord Voldemort. His staff choices were ridiculous. So strike…something, the Headmaster was out. Harry didn't hope any more. There was no trust there. That the Sorting Hat had believed sending him to Slytherin was a good idea was something he never told the old man. It was his secret and no one else's. If Dumbledore thought his silence to be strange as Harry stood in his office, he said nothing of it.

It couldn't be helped that he found so many similarities between himself and Riddle. He didn't know what to feel about the strange Head Boy and his aspirations. Harry felt the darkness inside him for the first time but it was pushed away by one single thought: he'd saved someone's life. Even if he did nothing of himself for the rest of his days, the fact was that there was an innocent young girl walking this Earth who would've died if Harry hadn't lived past that fateful Halloween. He supposed that making Lucius Malfoy lose the house elf that had almost killed Harry before made him feel stronger and more confident. Strange how some things had stopped affecting him at this point while others – like being able to give Mr. Malfoy the smuggest, most vindictive smirk – was suddenly so much more important. The fact that a couple of friendly words were enough to make the elf practical worship him didn't feel too bad either.

Harry accepted the pats on his shoulder, the well-wishers' words at the Platform in London, the beautiful smiles. They seemed to think it was normal that he rarely smiled back, pointing out that he'd been through so much this year ("poor kid!") and conveniently ignored who'd put him through hell for most of it. Harry watched them, remembered and judged them all in his head. And found them guilty. Of disloyalty, of cruelty, of stupidity, of ineptitude. He kept his friends close. The loyal ones, the only people who mattered. And he found that was enough for now.

Two days into his holidays he realized something else. Malfoy might never had targeted the school with his vile object had Harry not been there. In a way. That meant. That it was all his fault. Right? A good number of people had almost died because of him and it was only through sheer dumb luck that none of the petrified students – and cat – hadn't lost their lives because someone thought it would be interesting to release a giant snake while Harry was at school. And if he could figure it out, surely so would the closest people to him as well. They probably had already and secretly blamed him.


	3. Third Year

Harry was withdrawn. Ever since his encounter with the Dementors he felt as if a weight had been increasing over his chest, erasing all the good and leaving behind only the dark. He woke up out of breath and it had nothing to do with the fact that someone was trying to kill him. No, he actually was used to that – funny how the world works. But the nightmares grew more vivid and Harry didn't know what to do.

Remus Lupin was a puzzle to him. He was mysterious but friendly. Surprising competent but secretive. As a friend of his father, Harry was not surprised by the animosity between his professors of Defense and Potions. It was shocking to find out that his parents weren't perfect, the people he'd seen eyeing him lovingly in the Mirror of Erised that Dumbledore had stolen from him usually found only praise in the mouths of most adults. This was an unwelcomed surprise.

Judging by Snape's opinion – that Harry actually trusted - his father sounded like an attention-seeking bully, whose friend was an even worse bully who had later turned vicious murderer. Honestly, why did he even expect anything from people?

Hermione had been distant and lying to him. It was about something unimportant like classes but it still hurt. Ron stood by him at every turn and the twins gave him their map. He felt like wearing his Weasley jumper proudly till the day he died.

Again, Dumbledore's control over the school was almost null. A supposed mass murderer had entered the grounds and almost his dorm. It was laughable and at the same time… not really funny. Harry wasn't afraid. He was furious. McGonagall had lost most of his respect already but it was disdain that he now felt towards his Head of House, the one person who should've backed him up on the Hogsmead issue and helped him blend in and be just like everyone other student. No, he had to be the poor little Boy-Who-Lived. That it was for his protection was something that Harry realized later but that didn't cool his feelings of betrayal. Instead of disguising him and letting him join his friends, he was supposed to roam an emptier school that Sirius Black had already infiltrated once.

That no one bothered to tell him that the mass murderer in question was his Godfather, the betrayer of his parents who had made an orphan out of him was enough to make Harry's blood boil. He was thirteen years old. How low was their opinion of him if the Professors didn't bother to tell him that much? Were they waiting for Harry to hear it from someone like Draco Malfoy? Did they expect him to try to fight the bastard on his own? Harry wasn't stupid but he had fought a basilisk when he was twelve. Was a single wizard fresh out of Azkaban really that scary by comparison that they feared giving away any relevant information on him? Harry's anger grew, silent and seething.

He met Sirius Black so it was a good thing that the man was actually innocent of betraying his parents instead of a deranged mass murderer - another clue into Dumbledore's lack of skill as a guardian and truth seeker. He'd been bit of an idiot but Harry assumed his stay in Azkaban - and his suprisingly good state of mind all things considered - boded well for the future. Harry had a real, tangible chance at living with someone who truly cared for him. Harry only had a few moments of such positive thoughts before everything went to hell. Like he'd jinxed it.

Sirius Black was killed. Apparently the Headmaster had meant for two thirteen-year-olds to save a convicted hippogriff that had injured a student before and a somewhat unstable Sirius Black using a device called a Time Turner. When time was of the essence, Harry hadn't trusted Hermione after all the lying and had instead tried to reason with Professor Snape, the one person in school who hadn't disappointed him yet. But Snape believed Harry to be confused, confounded and was clearly embittered by his past. By the time the Minister entered the school with his eerie bodyguards, Buckbeak was long dead and a few moments later Black was administered a deadly kiss that ended his pitiful existence from an over-eager Dementor that had refused to obey anyone. Harry's hope of leaving the Dursleys ended as quickly as it had started, that warm feeling that had been growing for a few hours was chocked out of existence in that one brief moment.

Apparently, Harry was the one who was supposed to do everything, save everyone. And he'd failed so it was all his fault. Screw them. Screw the lot of them for placing that kind of responsibility and blame on his shoulders.

Enough with hoping! Enough with disappointing adults! Enough weak and useless people around him. People who lied, people who weren't strong enough to stand by his side, people with authority who should never have had any. Just. Enough.

His summer was much better. There was something in Harry's eyes that made the Dursley family keep as much distance between them as possible. Harry knew what it was. It was the growing cold in his chest, the strange calmness that was taking over his mind. It wasn't the confidence that generally came from growing up. It was an entirely different thing or lack of something. They could see it as much as Harry could feel it.

A dangerous kind of apathy.


	4. Fourth Year

Third time is a charm or so the saying goes. Harry heard his name and felt his chest tighten, crushing his heart and lungs. Forced to play in a tournament that would probably end with his death, Harry felt the hatred of the school again. It was mutual. There was nothing more to do but to give up on Hogwarts as a whole. He was brutally betrayed by Ron and abandoned at one of the lowest points in his life. Stalked by an annoying journalist who preyed on his weaknesses – honestly, any muggle would've sued and placed a restriction order on the witch after the first few stunts – Harry had only Hermione on his side and their relationship was still shaky after the events from the previous year.

Harry didn't take Ron back when the boy finally stopped calling Harry a liar and remained unforgiving till the end. Like a band-aid, it was best to let go of someone who would just disappoint him like everyone else especially if he had to fight a dragon to earn his trust. There was no way he was going to do that again, thank you very much. Hermione, who he had taken to the Ball after being told his attendance was not optional, was taken from him as his prized possession during the Second Task, making Harry both feel furious that Dumbledore would risk harming his one remaining true friend and also making him realize she was his one true weakness as well.

There were other people he liked, of course. Professor Flitwick was alright. Cedric Diggory had proven to be a decent friend and wizard. The twins were amusing even if he only saw them at meals and they constantly asked him to forgive their idiot brother. Professor Moody was a bit creepy but definitely interesting and Harry was deeply grateful for his help during the First Task.

The Graveyard. Yes, that happened. Diggory died. Harry hadn't expected it. He had allowed himself to grow closer to the older boy despite his instinctual reactions but Cedric was… good. A breath of fresh air, someone who was always honest, fair and loyal. In private and in public. Alone or in a crowd, it made no difference. He was always true to his character, someone who always thought the best of Harry and helped when he could. They almost won the Tournament together. Instead, Harry had gotten him – casually – killed. He didn't even remember how he'd escaped that dark place. But Voldemort was back in full force and trying to kill Harry, someone had died because of him and apparently one of Harry's teachers had been responsible for the attempt on his life. Yeah. No surprises there.

Standing in Dumbledore's office surrounded by people who supposedly cared about him and wished to protect him (even though they constantly failed), Harry couldn't help but notice how Fawkes' song felt both comforting and excruciatingly painful. Cedric's empty eyes haunted him every time Harry closed his eyes and the cries of the boy's father constantly echoed in his ears. Mr. Diggory had been so proud of him and with good reason, too. Harry gave them all the facts, bearing the brunt of being the bearer of the worst possible news, felt their fear and despair. Realized just how far gone the Minister was as a corrupted and downright useless individual. Again, no surprise, only resigned acceptance.

Hermione's revelation during the train ride back home of how she'd trapped Rita Skeeter was the only thing stopping him from cutting ties with his last friend. He'd been about to suggest they part ways indefinitely when the clever girl threw that curve ball at him. He'd laughed, both concerned and impressed for the amount of time that the sweet-looking witch had held an adult prisoner. In many ways, Hermione was the only good thing that Harry believed he had left in the world. So he said nothing. The whole trip after that, he said nothing and just stared at the outside world while Hermione slept, read and fidgeted uncomfortably.

Harry ignored everyone at the train station, including Ron who attempted to talk to him again and the idiots who whispered behind his back. He refused to greet Hermione's parents or the Weasleys. The green-eyed boy found his uncle quickly and left, not even wondering what this new summer would bring. It would come and it would go. All too soon, he'd be here again.


	5. Fifth Year

The Dursleys had been terrified of him all summer, something that Harry secretly enjoyed. They stayed out of his way and Dudley didn't dare to make fun of his nightmares, nor did his uncle say anything about waking up at ungodly hours to the screams of his nephew. It was a good thing, too, because Harry was pretty certain he would've seriously injured either of them if they'd attempted any of those things. Aunt Petunia now looked at him with a small amount of concern and something akin to guilt but Harry was too focused on his own dark thoughts to dwell on hers. That is, when he actually felt something. Most of the time he was awake, Harry spent his days with a blank expression that mirrored his mind and stared off into the distance with tired, old eyes no teenager should have.

Also during the summer of his fifteenth birthday, Harry found that he was starting to miss out on bits of his life. He'd wake up in his bed without remembering ever laying down. His encounter with the Dementors was somewhat anti-climactic as they didn't affect him quite as much as before – his perpetual state of apathy seemed to be enough to keep them fairly uninterested. There were barely any good memories on the surface for them to steal and his worst memories were those of hate and feeling betrayed by others. Holding on to these thoughts had almost no effect on the young man except to make him even bitterer. At least he got _some_ amusement out of Dudley's terrified reaction to the creatures.

He also started having strange visions and told Madam Pomfrey about them as soon as he was back at Hogwarts when they started interfering with his sleep. He received a few nice potions for his honesty but wasn't allowed to take them for more than a week so the problem persisted and Harry got really, really good at silencing charms.

Umbridge was a breath of fresh air in an otherwise tedious existence. Someone who was pure evil but acted like one of the good guys. Not really something Harry was used to. Harry found her amusing and allowed her to "punish" him as much as she wanted. No one protected him and he didn't expect or want them to. Harry grew to like the sharp rhythmic cuts on his hand. Umbridge was obviously furious by the lack of effect but eventually she backed off, either realizing that Harry was never going to stop - politely - claiming that Voldemort was back or maybe some deep instinctive part of Pink Lady finally woke up and told her she was antagonizing a dangerous foe. Harry actually missed her attention but the habit of cutting himself remained.

At some point, Harry became unresponsive towards most people, Hermione and Remus being the two only exceptions. Dumbledore was actively and very obviously ignoring him though Harry considered it an improvement, no longer keen on his meetings with the Headmaster whose sight alone was enough to fill him with an anger that was and both wasn't his own. Still, Remus didn't last. He died in the Department of Mysteries guarding a prophecy relating to Harry and the boy was too late to save him. Hermione was brutally tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange the same night because she'd followed him and Harry vowed never to have anything to do with her again, so as to never be responsible for that amount of pain being inflicted on a friend. He'd been right all along about Hermione being his biggest weakness and her pained cries joined Mr. Diggory's in the darkest little corner of his mind.

When Voldemort possessed Harry in the lobby of the Ministry, Dumbledore had looked worried. And yet, the Dark Lord had willingly left the boy's body after finding himself almost trapped in a small part of Harry's dark apathy, obviously surprised by the state of the Savior of the Wizarding World.

"Oh, Dumbledore, your precious boy… What have you done?", he'd cackled madly before leaving and Dumbledore had looked even more concerned than ever before. Harry, unsurprisingly, didn't care. Not about the brilliant display of magic in the duel, not about his latest encounter with the First Foe or the fear in Dumbledore's eyes when he looked at him.

Now that he was determined not to form any sort of attachment towards others, there was no one to control him. No one to influence his actions. The twins had left. Professor Flitwick proved to be just as useless as all the other teachers because the Ravenclaws had some serious bullying issues that came to light later in the year. He ignored Hermione when she was well enough to return to school and failed all his OWLS despite remarkably good practical results (though an obvious lack of effort also hindered those portions of the exams).

After Harry's last encounter with Voldemort, now standing safely in the Headmaster's office, Harry could tell the old man wanted to tell him something important. Eventually he spoke of a prophecy, of Harry's protection from evil that now seemed to be waning, about Voldemort's plan for achieving immortality and what was most likely in store for the boy in the future. He seemed to be considering saying more but changed his mind and Harry hated him all the more. Both avoided the other's eyes and Harry left the tense situation without saying a word. Fawkes didn't sing. He didn't dare.

His uncle didn't show up at the train station. Harry dodged many familiar faces, some still apologizing for not believing him, others just trying to reforge bonds he'd already forgotten (Hermione was a very persistent girl but even her attempts were half-hearted at best). Harry called the Knight Bus and found na empty house waiting for him as the Dursleys decided to take a long vacation abroad. Harry cackled madly, alone in a house filled with horrible memories. This was just perfect.

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**Hey, the chapters stopped getting shorter!**


	6. Sixth Year

Hedwig died. Moody did as well and Harry wasn't ashamed to admit the loss of his beloved companion affected him more than death the man he'd met but had not really known, the teacher who wasn't really his teacher. The man was obviously wary of him and Harry couldn't say he liked the way that annoying magical eye seemed to be trying to pierce mind and soul either. Both owl and wizard had died protecting him and it had been a close call for the Weasley family. Watching George in a couch with his worried family surrounding him after almost dying in Harry's place was like torture. Even if he was keeping his distance, the twins would always be special to him, a source of warmth than had almost been extinguished because of their involvement with Harry. What would Fred have done if George had never returned? He'd be angry, of course. Hateful, even though that wasn't in his nature. And in the end, he'd blame Harry, the source of all his grief. The green-eyed wizard couldn't do anything for Hedwig but, at the very least, he would make sure no one else died for him.

The snowy owl was like a thread to the child Harry had been before being brought to the Dursleys. A loved child, full of innocence and awe for the world. He'd stopped talking to her and using her for sending letters but he'd always fed her on time, released her at night and sometimes even petted her albeit in a somewhat detached way. Harry was kind to her in way in he'd forgotten to act towards human beings. And she'd taken that spell for him, the ultimate sign of loyalty and love.

Harry isolated himself completely at school. Snape's mandatory Occlumency lessons left the teacher baffled – Harry's mind was apparently developing a natural Occlumency (even though he still had odd visions) and during one of those lessons Harry now realized how much of a bully his father truly had been. A magical Duddley, it seemed from what little he could glimpse inside Snape's mind. That his mother had married said bully and betrayed her friendship with her childhood friend was one more disappointment that he really didn't need at that moment. He didn't have Remus or Sirius to tell him more about them so Snape's bitter memories were now the biggest source of information on his parents. Even the dead failed him now.

The Order was tracking down the Horcruxes, like good little heroes. Harry had been eventually told about them but hadn't been asked to take part in the hunt even though he was expected to attend a few meetings here and there. He pretended to pay attention because it made things easier and they bothered much less than the excruciating nagging that followed when he missed an appointment. The Order thinned as they found the Horcruxes as many never returned from the search. Bill Weasley had been mauled by a dragon at Gringots. Tonks survived to tell the tale but died shortly after in some kind of infernal cave, crying for Remus if Arthur Weasley's moving account was to be believed. Dumbledore had survived his encounter with a strange ring but his hand seemed to increasingly blackened as if he was being consumed by darkness. Harry felt strange in the Horcruxes' proximity but didn't pay it much attention and was just glad he hadn't been asked to be one of Dumbledore's sacrificial pieces. The Headmaster still didn't speak to him so Harry barely felt anything when the old wizard was killed by Snape. Resignation? It would be impossible to know. Harry couldn't even say he expected more from either Snape or Dumbledore.

A persistent red-head who had taken his place on the Gryffindor team long ago kept trying to get close to him but Harry shrugged her off like dust on his shoulder when he bothered acknowledging her insufferable presence. She eyed him with a confusing mix of awe, sadness and lust and she looked so much like the pictures and accounts of his mother that Harry felt almost sickened by the sudden interest. Neville tried to stand by his side but Harry pushed him away like he did everyone else. And even Neville gave up in the end.

He was always alone, at least the moments he could remember. His grades would've been Troll level if his practical evaluations hadn't gone well by comparison. Even if sometimes he didn't remember actually going to class, he seemed to be comfortable doing a wide variety of spells he didn't remember learning. Everything was a blur and sometimes Harry wished he could just sleep the days away and leave all of the noise and interference behind. He was aware that people now looked at him with a mixture of pity and fear but he was grateful for the distance they gave him whatever the reason.

When summer returned, Harry went back to an empty house again. And that suited him just fine. To be honest, he wasn't sure he'd be able to tolerate the Dursleys' presence this time, not after knowing the peace and quiet that came with their absence. With the complete absence of any humans in his domain.


	7. Seventh Year

Harry tried to learn more about his family during his final year of schooling. A part of him, maybe trying to fight the suffocating cold, wished to see the graves where the Potters were buried. As if he could somehow recover what he'd lost if he got physically close to those who had once been the most important people in his life. Even if there wasn't much left of them... in so many ways.

So Harry decided he would go to Godric's Hollow. Of course, others decided differently.

It was too dangerous, apparently, to let the prophecy boy out of their sights. They couldn't afford to expose Harry's location when Voldemort would surely try to publicly kill him. Though Harry wondered how Voldemort could make his death any more public than murdering him inside the Ministry. No, Harry realized that the thing they feared the most was that Harry would try leave and disappear… or worse, betray them all and join Voldemort. Harry had to admit that no matter how intimate he was with Betrayal, that was a line he'd never thought of crossing before. One would figure they'd support to any attempts he made to act like a normal human being but, apparently, he was wrong. Harry was vaguely aware that Hermione had defended him but most opposed his request and so there were now eyes actively watching the Boy-Who-Lived wherever he went.

So Harry did what anyone expected of him. He obeyed the rules, went to classes and isolated himself in the library. And when the first snow came just before Christmas, when the constant vigilance that always followed his every action wavered ever so slightly, Harry slipped through one of the secret passages with his faithful cloak and disapparated out of Hogsmead. Muggle transportation took him to places he'd never even heard before. He spelled his hair longer and used the Knight Bus to go to Godric's Hollow. He had no doubt that someone would look for him so he used his cloak to get close to the graves. It was unfortunate that his footprints gave him away but Harry wasn't truly concerned. He'd fulfilled his purpose and knew his keepers weren't far behind so he dropped the cloak.

He remembered touching the graves and feeling nothing but a twinge of surprise at the fact that he felt..._ nothing_. It was a cold and windy night, making Harry feel even colder inside. Arthur Weasley was the one who found him. He'd tried to take Harry back by force and something snapped inside the frustrated boy in that moment and he'd sent a stunner at the surprised man with as much force as his anger allowed. Mr. Weasley hit his head in James' headstone and didn't move again. He never moved again.

Harry quickly realized what he'd done and what it meant. There was no safety for him anymore. Not at Hogwarts. Not at the Burrow. Nowhere. He hovered over the body of the wizard for a few moments before finally walking away and almost barreled into a witness to the murder. Harry followed the old lady at her silent request and it wasn't long until he was being suffocated by a giant snake. Nagini. Harry struggled against her grip and eventually managed to gain the upper hand.

As he pointed his wand to the snake with the intention of killing her, Harry hesitated. It felt wrong. It felt as though he would be harming himself. Dumbledore believed the snake to be a horcrux and that explained the connection between the dark Lord and his familiar. Harry felt a similar connection and he couldn't help but remember the connection he'd also shared with the dark lord. An ugly laugh rose is in throat. Of course. He was a horcrux. It was so ridiculously obvious that he didn't know how he'd taken so long to figure it out. The parseltongue, the visions, the scar. Harry lifted one hand to his forehead and sighed, the final seal breaking as the knowledge sunk in. The whole Order must've known. Everyone except him.

"Will you take me to Him?" Harry asked the snake softly in her tongue and the familiar recoiled and hesitated. _Sit,_ she whispered at last and Harry obeyed. When two hours later, Lucius Malfoy entered the room with his wand drawn, Harry was sitting comfortably on a small couch, Nagini wrapped around the boy in a dangerous yet protective way, both whispering words he would never understand. The shiver that crossed the Death Eater's spine was obvious. "Take me to Him", Harry had said, the parseltongue slipping out against his will. He repeated the same words in English when Malfoy looked confused.

After Lucius had recovered from the fact that Harry Potter had willingly given him his wand, he'd taken the boy to his house where the Dark Lord awaited him. Others watched their arrival with poorly concealed surprise.

"So far from home, Harry Potter." Voldemort had risen from his makeshift throne and moved closer to Harry, listening to his familiar's quick recollection of her fight with Harry. The boy didn't interrupt. "Have you come to join me, Harry Potter? Or are you just tired of fighting?"

"Either is fine." Harry said and there were gasps around them. In parseltongue, he told Voldemort of the horcrux in his scar and was pleased that the Dark Lord hadn't been aware of that fact. The dark wizard was quiet for a long time, eyeing Harry greedily, no doubt imagining the various ways he could use the broken boy in his plans.

"So what now, Harry?" the tone was warm but somehow devoid of real warmth. He circled Harry like a predator, wand dangling gracefully in his hand. "How can I trust you're being sincere? That this is not all an elaborate attempt to kill me? Tell me, Harry, can you even perform a killing curse?"

Harry wasn't sure. But at that moment, he didn't mind trying it out.

"You once asked me if I would join you. Give me Peter Pettigrew and I will." Harry said simply. Behind the Dark Lord, Harry could see Snape in the background visibly flinch at his words. For some reason, he was glad Voldemort had missed the expression of shock and despair that had the crossed the usually blank expression.

Voldemort hadn't hesitated for second and soon after Pettigrew had been presented to Harry in a metaphorical silver platter. Harry answered with a lack of hesitation of his own, killing the groveling man without even blinking. Snape was now leaning against a wall and Harry wished he'd stop being stupid before someone saw fit to end the obvious distress of one of the few adults in the world that Harry didn't really hate. Voldemort's seemed to be keeping his joyous attention focused solely on Harry but that didn't mean he couldn't turn around at any time and survey his followers.

From that day forward, Voldemort accepted Harry as his right hand man. Together they completed the Deathly Hallows. They fought against the light at every turn and brought a new kind of despair to the Wizarding World. Faces of dead people he'd once known joined his memories. Not even his Weasleys escaped the following weeks unscathed. Hermione and her parents were killed in their home as they attempted to run. A photo of Harry and Voldemort, standing side by side with the Dark Mark hovering in the background circulated the world.

They-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

In the end, they took control of Hogwarts, a place that now meant more to Riddle than it did to Harry. Nagini was killed during that final effort and the Dark Lord now kept Harry close at all times. When Harry had told him about being an accidental Horcrux, they had both been unaware that the Order had already destroyed all the other soul recipients with the exception of Nagini and Voldemort believed to be completely safe from the scary blanket of eternal darkness, with one extra protection – Harry – now in place.

Sitting in the steps of the Great Hall after they won the bloody battle, Harry felts completely empty. As Riddle laughed next to him and enjoyed the "joke" they'd played on the Wizarding World and their plan for a new bright future, the Dark Lord started on of those insufferably long speeches that Harry had come to hate and proceeded to make even more noise by pulling a wand and sending green fireworks through the ruined ceiling.

Harry wasn't sure what he was thinking. He acknowledged that this was the first time Riddle was truly lowering his guard around him and something deep inside commanded his actions. Harry pulled his wand as if to join the Dark Lord's exuberant display and quietly whispered "Avada Kedavra." The look of shock in Riddle's face was unmistakable even in death. Harry dropped his head, feeling even emptier than before and he dropped his head, as if suddenly unable to fight the gravity.

A dark mist shot out from the older wizard's body and circled Harry angrily. The shadow clung to him, surrounding the young man as if looking for a point of entry until it lingered around Harry's head. The lighting bolt scar was red and painful looking, gaining some dark deep veins that spread to Harry's forehead like an infection. In essence, not divided. Not anymore. Not for a very long time, really.

Harry didn't know how much time had passed but suddenly the mist was gone and there was someone standing in front of him, wand pointed in his direction

"Look at me." Harry heard the quiet voice and slowly raised his head to face his former Professor. Their eyes met and Snape's gaze is full of thoughts unspoken while Harry's is as empty as ever. He blinks and when his eyes open again, Harry's right eye has turned into a vivid shade of red with a reptilian slit pupil.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

The young wizard doesn't dwell on the fact that this is the first time the teacher has called him by his first name. There's a flash of green and then nothing more.

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**While I initially intended to end it here, I felt something was missing so there's one last chapter left.**


	8. King's Cr- Riddle Manor

King's Cr-... Riddle Manor

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Harry woke up after what felt like an eternity. He was in beautiful dining room he'd only seen a few times in his visions. There was a boy there who looked to be about his age or perhaps a little younger and it took him longer than Harry should've to recognize the boy.

"Tom."

The boy looked at Harry, anger winning against his obviously terrified state.

"You killed me."

Harry shrugged. The other boy continued to look angry for a moment before he finally decided that Harry wasn't worth it or his current predicament outweighed any attempt at revenge.

"Why are we here?" he asked at last but Harry just gave him a look so devoid of interest that Riddle decided not to ask any more questions.

"It's your father's house. Why are you asking me?" Harry said as he sat in one of the chairs while Riddle seemed almost afraid to touch anything.

"Hey, Harry."

Said wizard turned abruptly with obvious surprise. Of all the people he might've expected to greet him in the afterlife, Cedric Diggory wouldn't have been the first name on his mind. Though perhaps he really was one of the few human beings that Harry didn't associate with some kind of betrayal so it did make sense in way. The golden-haired boy sat across from Harry, a familiar white shape leaving his shoulder to land on Harry's instead.

"Hedwig." Harry said almost fondly even though the feeling was long forgotten, almost out of reach.

"Harry, you have to fight now." Cedric said.

"Why?" Riddle started shivering just as Harry asked the question.

"You have to move on. You still can." Cedric started, looking at Voldemort with sadness. "You are still connected to him. He fears dying and will never move on but you're different. Your soul is not too broken yet even after all the horrible, horrible things you've done. You have to break the connection. Then you can move on."

Good old Cedric. He wouldn't lie to him or soften his blows, not even in death. But Harry didn't care. Fighting was too hard. And he wasn't sure he wanted to. What was so important on the other side that would warrant such an effort?

"Your parents are…" Cedric said as if answering his thoughts but then stopped, probably feeling no reaction from the young man now petting the white owl in a terribly detached way.

The parents who'd trusted the wrong man and gotten themselves killed. The bully and the woman who'd married him. He felt practically no connection to the people on the other side. If there really was some other side and he wasn't imagining all of this, that is.

"Remus…"

Who'd died for him.

"Hermione…"

Who'd died because of him.

"Harry…" Cedric said after a long pause, probably realizing nothing could make the broken Savior care about anything he had to say. Harry gave him a look of pity. He was trying so hard. "You'll feel better, I know you will. Come back to us. The boy I knew, the one who fought by my side, wouldn't give up. There is still light ahead. You just have to reach for it. Fight, Harry. If not for those who will always love you, then for yourself. To feel happy and safe again, like you did so many years ago."

"You're fighting a lost battle." Harry said, a hint of long forgotten humor retuning to the green-eyed wizard as Riddle's shivering subsided. Cedric truly was the only person who could've made him listen to such a long speech.

"I know. I still had to try." Cedric said sadly, looking down at the table. Hedwig gave Harry a surprisingly gentle peck on the ear before flying back to the golden-haired boy, hooting quietly.

Harry stood and moved closer to Riddle. His right eye flickered red for a second before returning to its natural green color.

"We can't stay here forever, Tom." Harry said, despite feeling like the whole place was like a healing balm to his very core. A source of sanity, of feeling, of warmth that he both longed for and feared.

"I'm not going anywhere." Riddle said quickly, frozen in place, as if terrified of something. "I won't follow him. I killed him."

"And I killed you. No one's judging." Harry's hand moved as if to reach the frightened teenager's shoulder. "Come on, Tom. Let's go back."

Riddle stopped shivering altogether but looked at Harry with a hateful glare that spoke volumes. Before he had a chance to say something, Harry's hand connected and the world twisted around them violently, pushing and pulling the pair in a million directions.

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It felt like years had passed before Harry regained some form conscious thought. When he did, he realized he wasn't alone and that he would never be alone again. He felt the thin link between himself and Tom, a bond that would forever haunt his days. Eh, haunt. Harry looked at his transparent hands with a good degree of amusement. He was a ghost. At Hogwarts. The mad cackle he let out pierced the hearts and brought shivers to many children that day and called Riddle to his presence. Tom wasn't transparent. He was corporeal and so full of malevolence that it didn't take long for Harry to understand what he was. A remnant of a broken piece of a human soul, a hate-driven creature who sought only chaos, who fed on despair, who already planned on poisoning the minds of students he deemed worthy and bringing death and torture to those who failed to meet his standards.

"Don't look at me. It's your fault we had to come back." Kind of. Looking at the creature who seemed to be a cross between a Poltergeist and a Dementor, Harry could see the task ahead with terrible clarity. His soul less tainted than when he'd entered the limbo, Harry understood that he would spend eternity by Riddle's side, keeping him in check. The monster's keeper – who just happened to be a monster himself. "You're lucky we're not in the same body…spirit. Whatever."

Riddle – and Harry, by association – was deeply connected to the school. It was unlikely he'd ever leave or that leaving was even possible for him. Unlike Harry, it would be hard for him to budge, no matter what anyone might throw at him in the future. With growing amusement, Harry wondered who would try and how they'd react to the presence of the pair of them in a school filled with children. Maybe their presence alone would be enough to close the school. He considered staying out of sight for a few years.

He should've fought before. Though, perhaps, this was the best path of repentance, the hard-working way to happiness. Or maybe. He should just join Riddle and wreak havoc upon the Wizarding World. Harry laughed again and the creature hissed at him, looking momentarily confused.

"Whatever we do. Let's have _fun_."

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**So yeah, that's it. Hope you enjoyed the ride. Harry's intact soul (it has a few cracks but no missing pieces) returns in ghost form not because he was afraid of death but because he's bound to someone who was. Voldemort's last piece of soul merged with the one in Harry and absorbed part of the taint left in him by all the other pieces, giving him a clearer mind. Voldemort's not fully human and when his soul returns it's a broken mess wrapped up in fear and hate. He's close to a poltergeist and his presence has similar effects to that of a dementor because he will always seek to erase what is good and revel in the presence of what is bad, a part of him always searching for the missing pieces of his soul without being too picky as to whose soul he tries to absorb. In conclusion, he's a dangerous one of kind and Harry will spend eternity controlling him while finding reasons to "live" after death. I like to think he'd find ways to enjoy himself but I'll leave that up to you.**

**There's a little goodbye scene ahead. No, I'm not trying to make you cry.**

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"Hello, Professor."

Severus Snape removed the hand from Lily's headstone, a look of shock as his eyes settled on the transparent form of the boy he'd killed. Harry Potter was looking at him kindly but obviously amused. How many years had it been since he'd seen that kind of expression on the boy? What part had he taken in robbing the boy of it? He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. The spy's usual mask had fallen and his emotions were there, in his face, for everyone to see. For once. All the pain and regret. Sadness and guilt. Bare and raw.

"I don't blame you." Harry told him and looked at the grave, his ghostly hand moving as if to touch his mother's headstone but going through it instead. "I don't think she does either."

But he would never know and Severus let out a pained, shuddering breath as he realized exactly what they'd done to the boy. What they'd failed to do.

"Rest, Professor. It's over, now." The ghostly shape vanished and the former teacher fell to his knees, one hand seeking support and comfort on the headstone of the woman he would always love but had failed.

The End.


End file.
